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Speeches (Lines) for Princess of France
in "Love's Labour's Lost"

Total: 102

# Act, Scene, Line
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Speech text



Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits:
Consider who the king your father sends,
To whom he sends, and what's his embassy:
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem,
To parley with the sole inheritor
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace
As Nature was in making graces dear
When she did starve the general world beside
And prodigally gave them all to you.

Princess of France. Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues:
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker: good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall outwear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor.
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace:
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.



Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go.

Princess of France. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.
[Exit BOYET]
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?



First Lord. Lord Longaville is one.

Princess of France. Know you the man?



Maria. I know him, madam: at a marriage-feast,
Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized
In Normandy, saw I this Longaville:
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,
If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,
Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should none spare that come within his power.

Princess of France. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?



Maria. They say so most that most his humours know.

Princess of France. Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?



Rosaline. Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, if I have heard a truth.
Biron they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,
Delivers in such apt and gracious words
That aged ears play truant at his tales
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Princess of France. God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?



(stage directions). [Re-enter BOYET]

Princess of France. Now, what admittance, lord?



Ferdinand. Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.

Princess of France. 'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I have
not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be
yours; and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.



Ferdinand. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.

Princess of France. I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither.



Ferdinand. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.

Princess of France. Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.



Ferdinand. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.

Princess of France. Why, will shall break it; will and nothing else.



Ferdinand. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.

Princess of France. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it.
But pardon me. I am too sudden-bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.



Ferdinand. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.

Princess of France. You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay.



Ferdinand. Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but the one half of an entire sum
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he or we, as neither have,
Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If then the king your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitaine,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitaine;
Which we much rather had depart withal
And have the money by our father lent
Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast
And go well satisfied to France again.

Princess of France. You do the king my father too much wrong
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.



Ferdinand. I do protest I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back
Or yield up Aquitaine.

Princess of France. We arrest your word.
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum from special officers
Of Charles his father.



Ferdinand. It shall suffice me: at which interview
All liberal reason I will yield unto.
Meantime receive such welcome at my hand
As honour without breach of honour may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness:
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so received
As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart,
Though so denied fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
To-morrow shall we visit you again.

Princess of France. Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!



Boyet. And every jest but a word.

Princess of France. It was well done of you to take him at his word.



Maria. To my fortunes and me.

Princess of France. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree:
This civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.



Boyet. If my observation, which very seldom lies,
By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.

Princess of France. With what?



Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle affected.

Princess of France. Your reason?



Boyet. Why, all his behaviors did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair:
Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass'd,
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd:
His face's own margent did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitaine and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

Princess of France. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed.



(stage directions). [Enter the PRINCESS, and her train, a Forester,]

Princess of France. Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?



Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.

Princess of France. Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind.
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch:
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murderer in?



Forester. Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.

Princess of France. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.



Forester. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.

Princess of France. What, what? first praise me and again say no?
O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe!



Forester. Yes, madam, fair.

Princess of France. Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.



Forester. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.

Princess of France. See see, my beauty will be saved by merit!
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
And out of question so it is sometimes,
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.



Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Princess of France. Only for praise: and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.



Costard. God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?

Princess of France. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.



Costard. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?

Princess of France. The thickest and the tallest.



Costard. The thickest and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth.
An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.

Princess of France. What's your will, sir? what's your will?



Costard. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one Lady Rosaline.

Princess of France. O, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend of mine:
Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.



Boyet. I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.

Princess of France. We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.



Boyet. 'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;
true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that
thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful
than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have
commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The
magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set
eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar
Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say,
Veni, vidi, vici; which to annothanize in the
vulgar,—O base and obscure vulgar!—videlicet, He
came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw two;
overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he
come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to
whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the
beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The
conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king's.
The captive is enriched: on whose side? the
beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose
side? the king's: no, on both in one, or one in
both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison:
thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness.
Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce
thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I
will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes;
for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus,
expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot,
my eyes on thy picture. and my heart on thy every
part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Princess of France. What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?



Boyet. I am much deceived but I remember the style.

Princess of France. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.



Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;
A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the prince and his bookmates.

Princess of France. Thou fellow, a word:
Who gave thee this letter?



Costard. I told you; my lord.

Princess of France. To whom shouldst thou give it?



Costard. From my lord to my lady.

Princess of France. From which lord to which lady?



Costard. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline.

Princess of France. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
Here, sweet, put up this: 'twill be thine another day.



(stage directions). [Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and MARIA]

Princess of France. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
A lady wall'd about with diamonds!
Look you what I have from the loving king.



Rosaline. Madame, came nothing else along with that?

Princess of France. Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme
As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.



Rosaline. Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.'

Princess of France. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
But Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?



Rosaline. I would you knew:
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron:
The numbers true; and, were the numbering too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

Princess of France. Any thing like?



Rosaline. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.

Princess of France. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.



Katharine. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.

Princess of France. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?



Katharine. Madam, this glove.

Princess of France. Did he not send you twain?



Maria. This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:
The letter is too long by half a mile.

Princess of France. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
The chain were longer and the letter short?



Maria. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

Princess of France. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.



Rosaline. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Biron I'll torture ere I go:
O that I knew he were but in by the week!
How I would make him fawn and beg and seek
And wait the season and observe the times
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes
And shape his service wholly to my hests
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So perttaunt-like would I o'ersway his state
That he should be my fool and I his fate.

Princess of France. None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,
As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.



Maria. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note
As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;
Since all the power thereof it doth apply
To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

Princess of France. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.



Boyet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace?

Princess of France. Thy news Boyet?



Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are
Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,
Armed in arguments; you'll be surprised:
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

Princess of France. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.



Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear,
That, by and by, disguised they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage:
Action and accent did they teach him there;
'Thus must thou speak,' and 'thus thy body bear:'
And ever and anon they made a doubt
Presence majestical would put him out,
'For,' quoth the king, 'an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.'
The boy replied, 'An angel is not evil;
I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.'
With that, all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder:
One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd and swore
A better speech was never spoke before;
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cried, 'Via! we will do't, come what will come;'
The third he caper'd, and cried, 'All goes well;'
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To cheque their folly, passion's solemn tears.

Princess of France. But what, but what, come they to visit us?



Boyet. They do, they do: and are apparell'd thus.
Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance;
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress, which they'll know
By favours several which they did bestow.

Princess of France. And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd;
For, ladies, we shall every one be mask'd;
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despite of suit, to see a lady's face.
Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the king will court thee for his dear;
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.
And change your favours too; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.



Katharine. But in this changing what is your intent?

Princess of France. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:
They do it but in mocking merriment;
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages displayed, to talk and greet.



Rosaline. But shall we dance, if they desire to't?

Princess of France. No, to the death, we will not move a foot;
Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace,
But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face.



Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Princess of France. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt
The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out
There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown,
To make theirs ours and ours none but our own:
So shall we stay, mocking intended game,
And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.



Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

Princess of France. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.



Biron. Nay then, two treys, and if you grow so nice,
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice!
There's half-a-dozen sweets.

Princess of France. Seventh sweet, adieu:
Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.



Biron. One word in secret.

Princess of France. Let it not be sweet.



Biron. Thou grievest my gall.

Princess of France. Gall! bitter.



Ferdinand. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

Princess of France. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
[Exeunt FERDINAND, Lords, and Blackamoors]
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?



Rosaline. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

Princess of France. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight?
Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces?
This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.



Rosaline. O, they were all in lamentable cases!
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Princess of France. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.



Katharine. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you what he called me?

Princess of France. Qualm, perhaps.



Katharine. Yes, in good faith.

Princess of France. Go, sickness as thou art!



Rosaline. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.

Princess of France. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.



Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be
They will digest this harsh indignity.

Princess of France. Will they return?



Boyet. They will, they will, God knows,
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:
Therefore change favours; and, when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

Princess of France. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.



Boyet. Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud;
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Princess of France. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?



Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.

Princess of France. Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land.
in their proper habits]



Ferdinand. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

Princess of France. 'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive.



Ferdinand. Construe my speeches better, if you may.

Princess of France. Then wish me better; I will give you leave.



Ferdinand. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.

Princess of France. This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.



Ferdinand. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

Princess of France. You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke;
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest;
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.



Ferdinand. O, you have lived in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.

Princess of France. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
We have had pastimes here and pleasant game:
A mess of Russians left us but of late.



Ferdinand. How, madam! Russians!

Princess of France. Ay, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.



Dumain. Let us confess and turn it to a jest.

Princess of France. Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?



Biron. Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see:
Write, 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three;
They are infected; in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

Princess of France. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.



Ferdinand. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.

Princess of France. The fairest is confession.
Were not you here but even now disguised?



Ferdinand. Madam, I was.

Princess of France. And were you well advised?



Ferdinand. I was, fair madam.

Princess of France. When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady's ear?



Ferdinand. That more than all the world I did respect her.

Princess of France. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.



Ferdinand. Upon mine honour, no.

Princess of France. Peace, peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.



Ferdinand. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.

Princess of France. I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?



Rosaline. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear
As precious eyesight, and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto moreover
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

Princess of France. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth unhold his word.



Ferdinand. My faith and this the princess I did give:
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Princess of France. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.
What, will you have me, or your pearl again?



Ferdinand. I say they shall not come.

Princess of France. Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now:
That sport best pleases that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth.



(stage directions). [Converses apart with FERDINAND, and delivers him a paper]

Princess of France. Doth this man serve God?



Biron. Why ask you?

Princess of France. He speaks not like a man of God's making.



Costard. It is, 'Great,' sir:—
Pompey surnamed the Great;
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make
my foe to sweat:
And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France,
If your ladyship would say, 'Thanks, Pompey,' I had done.

Princess of France. Great thanks, great Pompey.



Biron. Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling knight.

Princess of France. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander.



(stage directions). [HOLOFERNES retires]

Princess of France. Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!



Don Adriano de Armado. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks,
beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed,
he was a man. But I will forward with my device.
Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

Princess of France. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.



Mercade. God save you, madam!

Princess of France. Welcome, Mercade;
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.



Mercade. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father—

Princess of France. Dead, for my life!



Ferdinand. How fares your majesty?

Princess of France. Boyet, prepare; I will away tonight.



Ferdinand. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.

Princess of France. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavors; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
The liberal opposition of our spirits,
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath: your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.



Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,—
As love is full of unbefitting strains,
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain,
Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.

Princess of France. We have received your letters full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.



Ferdinand. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.

Princess of France. A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:
If for my love, as there is no such cause,
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about the annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine
I will be thine; and till that instant shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Neither entitled in the other's heart.



Biron. A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

Princess of France. [To FERDINAND] Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.



Don Adriano de Armado. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,—

Princess of France. Was not that Hector?

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